


So Hey, Let's Be(e) Friends!

by sugarboat



Series: The Bee Movie, but every time they say the word 'bee' someone becomes a living hive [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Power Swap, Body Horror, Body Worship, Consent Issues, Flesh!Elias, Living Hive!Jon, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Trypophobia, boundary violation, featuring bees, wound fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 18:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17452499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarboat/pseuds/sugarboat
Summary: It's a meat-cute between powers when Jon accidentally touches something that belongs to Elias.





	So Hey, Let's Be(e) Friends!

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to really emphasize some of the tags above. Consider a living bee hive and where fingers and tongues might go in them.

“Isn’t the bored, cannibalistic rich boy a bit played out?” is the first thing Jonathan Sims says to him. 

Elias raises an eyebrow, otherwise unmoved. _Boy._ Laughable, considering the obvious slant of the age difference at play here. 

He doesn’t comment on that. Instead, he says, “Do you think so?” And enjoys the way Jon rolls his eyes. 

“They’ve written books about it,” the living hive says. “Online forums are dedicated to this particular conspiracy theory. And you’re adding veracity to their claims.” 

“Hm,” Elias intones. He lets a grin with too many teeth split his face. “My apologies, Mr. Sims, for being such a cliché.” 

Jon huffs out an irritated breath of air. “You wanted me. Well, here I am. I presume you aren’t going to eat me?” 

All things told, Jon looks remarkably good for what he is. Most of the flesh that’s showing on him is intact, pallid but not yet entirely bloodless. There’s only a small cluster of honeycombed skin along the right side of his face. Over his cheek and spilling down towards his throat. 

Jon sees where his attention has gone. He strokes his tongue along the inside of his cheek, and Elias’ stomach twists pleasantly to see the ghost of it push at the bottom of those holes. A thick, amber syrup oozes out. When he opens his mouth again, a bee crawls out first.

“Well?” Jon snaps. 

“No,” Elias answers. “I’m not going to eat you.” 

He steps forward, and he can hear the low buzz of the swarm Jon’s carrying with him. Jon stands his ground, eyes fixated on his movements. There’s an unsettling shifting and bulging beneath his clothes that Elias ignores. He takes Jon’s chin in hand and tilts his head to the side. Easy, the way Jon lets him bare his neck. Elias takes a moment to admire it, this natural yielding, how Jon’s still watching him, how his body’s gone tight and tense. 

Then he leans in, and licks the fluid that’s spilled out along Jon’s cheek with one long stroke of his tongue. It’s sweet. Sticky, like honey, tempered by the brined tang of blood at its edges.

“Ugh,” Jon says, and shoves at him. “You said you _weren’t_ going to eat me.” 

The distance he puts between them isn’t much. His face is twisted with distaste, and flushed, the latter of which only worsens when Elias strokes a thumb across those delightful holes and gathers up more of that fluid. 

“I won’t,” Elias confirms. He releases Jon’s chin. The hive jerks away from him. “But we do need to discuss a matter of repayment.”

“Repayment?” Jon echoes. He sounds incredulous. “I don’t owe you anything.” 

“No?” Elias brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it slowly clean. So satisfying to watch Jon’s gaze drop to his lips and snap back. 

“No,” Jon answers flatly when he sees Elias uninclined to continue. 

“Martin Blackwood,” Elias says, and now concern creeps into Jon’s countenance. “I assume you remember the name of the last man you infested?” 

“He wasn’t one of yours,” Jon argues. “He- he wasn’t anything. Human.” Jon’s eyes go distant for a moment. “And so lonely.” 

“Be that as it may,” Elias says, stepping forward to regain the ground lost between them, “I’m afraid he did indeed belong to me, in a manner of speaking, and his abrupt removal is… inconvenient, to put it mildly.” 

“A valuable member of your operation?” Jon drawls. Sarcastic brat. “Find someone else to fetch you your tea.” He pauses. “Or whatever it is you drink. Is it just blood all the time?”

“I can still enjoy a good cup of tea. And it’s not about what Mr. Blackwood does for me.” Elias gainfully ignores the quietly muttered _of course not_ beneath Jon’s breath. “It’s the fact that he does work for me at all.” 

“A point of pride, then? He can still work for you. Having a quick source of honey nearby might even help him in whatever it is he _does for you_.” 

“Jonathan,” Elias sighs. 

“Jon is fine.” 

“Jon, then.” In the face of Elias’ onslaught, Jon has backed up almost to the door. “You must understand; you’ve taken something from me, and I can hardly allow that to go unanswered.” 

Jon swallows. “He asked me for them.” 

“Did he?” Elias raises his hand to the side of Jon’s face again. The latticework of sweetly sticky holes bored there are so nearly the correct size for him to dip his fingers into.

“He was- nervous. Afraid.” Elias makes an assenting sound in his throat and Jon continues. There’s a thump from the back of Jon’s shoe hitting the door. “The poor fool was convinced he was going to be headed somewhere with one of the Lukases.” 

Elias pauses, a hint of a frown appearing. “He told you that much?” 

“He told me much, much more than that,” Jon grumbles. Then he crooks his head, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re so put out. Lukas won’t accept Martin as your little sacrifice anymore.” His smile is as annoying as it is charming. “We’re never alone, you know.” 

“Yes, Jon, a fact of which I am well aware.”

“I’m so sorry for the predicament you’ve found yourself in, Elias. But I can hardly fill the shoes of your wayward sacrifice.”

“You’re right, of course,” Elias admits. “Which is precisely why I’m not asking you to throw yourself into the sea for me.” 

“Then what are you asking me for?” Jon demands, and then he gasps when Elias crooks his fingers, and hooks them along the holes in his cheek.

“I was still deciding,” Elias says. He licks his lips, considering the taste of blood and honey. Jon has his hands plastered to the door behind him.

“Was?” His voice is shaky at its edges. Elias digs his fingers in a gentle increment deeper and feels the radiant shiver that wracks along Jon’s form. 

“I believe I’ve nearly made up my mind.” 

“Well,” Jon says, clearing his throat. “Let me know when you’ve decided, won’t you? Until then, I’ll just- take my leave-”

“No, I don’t think so.” He shoves his fingers against the thin membrane he can feel at the bottom of those combs, thick, sap-like fluid oozing out around them while Jon jerks. It gives him an anchor to tilt Jon’s head up. To find the proper angle for him to fit their mouths together.

Jon goes slack beneath him for a moment, and Elias can actually hear the monotonous droning of his hive fall silent. Before it comes back in a furious buzz, Jon arching up against him, parting his lips in invitation. Elias accepts, thoroughly, forces him back against the door, while Jon grips the front of his shirt, twisting the material in a truly irritating fashion. It’s going to be wrinkled beyond repair by the time he’s done.

His mouth is sweet, too. And all things considered, Elias is rather glad to find there’s nothing crawling out between Jon’s teeth. 

“Really?” is what Jon has to say to him after they part. Elias is going to have to find some way to keep his mouth occupied. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just eat part of me?” 

“Is there some part of you you’d like me to eat?” His fingers come out of Jon with a wet shluck, glistening and candied. 

“Absolutely not.” But he sucks in a sharp breath when Elias ducks down to the side of his neck, and it transforms into something almost pained when Elias opens his mouth above the wounds of his hive and digs his tongue into one. “E-Elias.” 

Elias hums a short acknowledgement but keeps worming his tongue in deeper. He only pulls back to slip his tongue into the hole beside it. The two separated by such a thin sheet of tissue, delicate as lace. As strands of sugar. Jon is panting, short sharp jerks of inhalations. His pulse is wild and isn’t that interesting, an infested left alive. 

Elias is meticulous in his explorations, even when he feels the brief flutter of gossamer wings against his lips. The tickling brush of something soft and skittering near his face, a crawling on his skin that alights and retreats as quickly as it can be felt. He delves his tongue into one chamber and then the next, and the next. There’s a taste like blood, and like raw meat, and it’s all so sweet, sweet, sweet. Jon looks almost dazed when he finally separates from his neck, and Elias’ mouth feels sticky and tingling. 

“I believe we can come to a compromise,” Elias tells him, before sticking their lips together again. Does it bother Jon to taste the fruit of his hive’s own labor on his tongue? 

“A compromise.” He’s endearingly breathless. “What- uh, what kind of compromise?” 

“I’m sure you can tell where this is going, Jon.” In case he can’t, Elias slips a hand between the small of Jon’s back and the door, pulls him forward while he rolls his own hips, grinding his erection against Jon’s pelvis. 

A side of Jon’s abdomen, low on his hips, is softer, more giving than it should be, and excitement sparks up Elias’ spine. 

“This is what you want?” Jon still sounds disbelieving, somehow, regardless of the proof Elias has thoughtfully provided. His eyelashes flutter when he looks down, unable to meet his eyes. “You do realize that I’m- I’m not-”

“I already know you’re not human. To be perfectly frank, that’s most of the appeal.” 

“This doesn’t just stop at the neckline, you know.” 

“Jon,” Elias says, teasingly serious, “Are you offering to show me just how far down your hive goes?” 

“That is quite possibly the worst pickup line I’ve ever had the displeasure of living through.” 

“Well then, allow me the opportunity to make it up to you.” Elias warps the bones in his fingertips until they jut through his skin, sharp and curved and quite well suited for shredding through Jon’s cardigan and shirt. 

“I _liked_ that sweater,” Jon complains. He still lets Elias tear it to ribbons. 

The buzzing of the hive gets louder with Jon’s shirt off – Elias has to peel pieces of it away where it’s plastered to his skin by honey. Bees are crawling all over him. It’s a little nauseating to watch them swarm, dipping in and out of holes all along the sweep of his chest, around honeycombed skin built around his ribs. Holes in his left clavicle, the right side of his chest – down, lower, a cluster that starts just above the waist of his slacks and insinuates lower down his left hip, towards his pelvis. 

There’s almost an overarching pattern to their placement, when Elias gets back far enough away from Jon to see it. A bowing wave that crests from one side of his body to the other. Esoterically beautiful. But then, Elias is more familiar – more comfortable – with the enticing ways flesh can be shaped and molded than the average person. 

“You’re staring,” Jon says, purposefully free of inflection. He’d been forced to finally release his death grip of Elias’ clothes and now seems to not know what to do with his hands. 

“How rude of me.” 

It’s tempting to let him squirm, flushing and awkward. Considering how the worms like to spread themselves, it’s almost funny to see a hive so obviously inexperienced. Elias knows the impact silent, well-placed judgment can have, and he almost wants to see what Jon would do. Lash out at him, perhaps, or storm out of his office. 

In the end, his preferred choice of action is to slide a hand into Jon’s hair – fingers clinging with molten sugar – grab a handful and twist, pull his neck back, while Elias’ mouth finds the cluster in his skin that’s nestled just above the arch of his collarbone. 

He drags his tongue along the outer edges of the cells this time, tracing their mesmerizingly uniform patterns. It makes Jon twitch and tremble beneath the assault, and the hive’s hips buck when he edges the tip of his tongue into one of the chambers again. And again. The taste is mouth-watering, the effect on Jon even more so. It takes actual effort not to sink his teeth into this mess of ruined flesh and drag the whole hive out with them. 

Instead Elias pauses for a moment to kiss Jon again, slipping his tongue into Jon’s mouth so the living hive can feel how the muscle ripples as it parts and splits into two. There’s a muffled noise of concern and then Jon’s moaning into his mouth, pushing up against him. Clearly enjoying the way they twist and twine.

Jon’s clinging to him, now. He and his swarm, both, as Elias finds when he pulls away and a brash of the things flutter off from his shoulders with the movement. They come back soon after, crawling over his clothing, flitting away every time he moves before returning. Cute. 

“Elias,” Jon says. He has a very nice voice. 

“Jon,” Elias replies, because he can be just as unhelpful as Jon. 

“What, ah- what do you want from me?” 

Exactly this. Elias leans close to the undamaged side of his neck to nip it with consciously blunted teeth. He lets his lips brush over Jon’s skin when he says, “Well. To start with, I think I’m going to fuck every single hole I can find on your body.” 

Jon’s entire body jerks like it’s been electrocuted, but he says, “Not including the nose and ears, I hope?” 

“Only by request.” Elias drags his mouth up along the slope of Jon’s neck. Pausing and sucking at a stretch of skin beneath his ear that makes him shiver and gasp. Before he moves to graze his teeth across the delicate shell of his ear itself. 

“N-No, no thank you, kind of you to offer,” Jon manages to get out. 

“Do let me know if you change your mind.” 

He takes Jon’s earlobe briefly between his teeth, to enjoy the shudder of his body, the twist of his hands, and then he works his way back down. To Jon’s collar, where he’d only made his way partially through the holes littered there, the ones he’s plundered looking achingly empty in comparison to their brethren around it, weeping amber honey. 

Elias only considers briefly filling them again, jerking himself off above Jon’s chest until his come is flooding all those chambers. It makes him perhaps a bit less gentle than his previous explorations, twisting his tongues into separate holes – once, forcing both into the same while Jon keened spectacularly – his teeth occasionally catching on some of that fragile skin. 

His hands have started wandering, too, scratching over Jon’s skin, delving into the combs they stumble across while Jon simply does his best to keep on his feet at all. Panting and whining, and finally Elias can feel that his living hive has gotten hard. He thoughtfully shoves a thigh between Jon’s legs, gives him something to rut against as Elias makes good on his promise. 

The cluster on Jon’s chest is next. It takes a bit of awkward bending, but what good is having a highly malleable body if not for grinding his hips into a young man’s while tongue-fucking a series of wounds like scatter-shot on his chest. Jon has a hand in his hair, is urging him on, has devolved into just gasping his name over and over again. A shock of arousal leaps down Elias’ spine, pools in his groin at the thought that Jon’s going to come from this alone. 

He redoubles his efforts, ruthless, jamming his fingers in hard and working Jon with his tongues. 

“Come on, Jon,” he pulls away long enough to murmur, to a heart-wrenching plea from his hive, “Come for me.” 

The fact that Jon nearly complies from the order alone is filed away for later use. But Elias is more than happy to continue delving into every part of him he can reach until Jon’s pushed over the edge, moaning and bucking himself against Elias through his orgasm. There’s a quiet plunking sound and Elias glances down to find that some of his bees have simply fallen to the floor. 

“Oh, very nicely done,” Elias praises, and Jon shifts restlessly in response. 

He slips his hands under Jon’s thighs and hefts him up. The hive weighs less than he would have expected. Interesting. Perhaps the swarm has hollowed him out a bit. Elias would love to splay him open and find out. For now, he’s content to splay Jon on top of his desk and work at the removal of the remainder of his clothing. He’s more careful with his own, though by this point Elias suspects that they’ve been hopelessly stained. The bees resting on his shirt are sluggish, and only a handful of them bother with buzzing up into the air and perching on his skin when they’re shucked free. 

Jon seems to rally somewhat as Elias drapes his clothes over a chair. He props himself up on his elbows, looking quite attractively fuzzy at his edges. His fingers are brushing over some of the more battered holes on his chest, that are pink and swelled at their edges from where Elias tried to fit more inside them than they could take. A few of them may or may not have torn. 

Elias steps forward, between Jon’s spread thighs, pulling him closer to the edge of his desk. It’s a good thing he’d cleared away most of his important documents before this little meeting. In the anticipation of more blood and viscera than he’s spilled thus far. 

Now that the hive’s naked he can see the full spread of its swarm. The catacomb that swirls around his hip dips low between his legs, dangerously close to his cock. The flesh there looks weeping, and raw, as if this might be a new addition to their nesting, and Jon hisses out a breath between his teeth when Elias prods ungently at its edges, presses until blood tinged honey oozes thickly up to the surface. 

There are holes scattered along the insides of his thighs as well, a dreadfully appealing sight. A familiar hunger that makes Elias’ teeth sharpen and elongate, though he’s more careful to keep them away when he ducks down to lap across the weeping mess of Jon’s pelvis. Blood and honey and come, all of it gathered up on his tongues. He leans over Jon to slot their mouths together again, and pushes the mixture between his lips. 

Jon jerks angrily away, sputtering. “ _Christ_ , Elias.” 

But licks his lips, too, having already swallowed. 

“Good boy,” Elias murmurs, to watch Jon’s scowl deepen and his cheeks flush. 

He jams his fingers and thumbs into the chambers on Jon’s thighs and spreads them, and returns his mouth to his abdomen. Jon’s more sensitive here, or maybe it’s just that in the wake of his orgasm he’s overreactive to touch, wriggling his hips as if he doesn’t know whether to try and move away or into Elias’ lips and tongue. Elias is happy to make the choice for him, hooking his claws into meat and holding Jon captive. 

Jon’s vocabulary is reduced to his name once again. Elias’ cock is throbbing with his pulse and he drags one hand out of Jon’s thighs to slip between the hive’s legs instead. Claws blunting back into fingers as he steadily works him open, dribbles saliva and whatever syrup he pulls out of Jon over his fingers as lube.

“Jon,” Elias says once he’s gotten three fingers into the hive, has found his prostate and worked him steadily, torturously back into arousal. “Would you like me to fuck you now?” 

“Yes,” Jon gasps, rocking back onto his hand, “Yes, please, Elias.” 

“Please what?” Elias asks. He pulls his fingers out to just their tips while Jon whines piteously. 

“Please, please fuck me.” 

“But I am,” Elias says, pushing back in slowly, languidly. “I have been. Unless you’re wanting something more substantial than my fingers and tongues?” 

“Yes- y-yes, that,” Jon agrees. “More, Elias, please.” 

“You’re so well mannered. But you’re going to have to ask for what you want. What do you want, Jon? More fingers inside you? Or-”

“Your cock, Elias, Christ just- fuck me,” Jon pleads. Demands, if Elias is being generous with how he interrupts such a snappish, desperate request. 

“Ah, I see, you want my cock, hmm?” Elias pulls his hand free – pulls both of them free, and grabs Jon by the hips until his ass is nearly off the desktop, at the perfect height for Elias to fuck into him. 

“Yes, Elias, I want your cock,” Jon repeats, tone a bit dry at the edges for Elias’ tastes. 

“In the future,” Elias says as he lines himself up, barely pressing inside him, “I will expect you to ask more politely.” 

“Please,” Jon replies, twitching himself back against him. 

Elias holds them both still for a moment and then thrusts himself in, a smooth slide until he’s balls deep inside the living hive. Jon groans, his head tossed back before he looks up to Elias with heavily lidded eyes. Now that Elias isn’t assaulting them, Jon’s swarm has returned to their combs, are buzzing in and out of his holes almost anxiously. 

Elias savors this bit of serenity before his favorite part. He pets at Jon’s hips once more before his fingers are sinking in, through flesh and tissue until they hit bedrock bone, and Jon’s breath hitches and freezes with a sudden rush of terror. The crests of his ilia fit nicely against Elias’ hands, and Elias takes a few moments to appreciate the delicate concave bowing of his hips, petting along their form. 

But really, it’s not any fun just to touch, when he can warp Jon’s bone as he pleases, make it bend and buckle around his fingers until there are handholds imprinted there just for Elias to grab onto while Jon moans in dismay, and actually releases something like a sob when Elias forcefully tilts his pelvis just so. 

“There,” Elias says, above Jon’s frantic panting. “That’s better, don’t you think?” 

“What- what did you do to me?” Jon asks. His voice is thick with fear.

“Nothing that can’t be undone,” Elias assures him. “Assuming I’m in the mood to do so, of course. Now, I believe you were begging for my cock?” 

“Elias-”

If he was going to say anything else, Elias interrupts him by beginning a brutal pace. He has to take one hand out of Jon’s pelvis – it inspires a delightful sound from his lover – to grab one of his legs instead, to bend it upward so Elias can lean over him, get a better angle inside him. He wraps his hand around Jon’s femur to do so, and wonders if he has honey for marrow, too.

It doesn’t take long for Elias to finish after that. Jon’s tight and slick around him, and his insides squirm in interesting ways against his cock. He’s egged on by how Jon clings to his shoulders, by the thick miasma of fear and arousal coiled tight together. He gets stung a few times for his trouble but it only makes him fuck Jon harder, makes him twist Jon’s femur in its socket and threaten to jar his pelvis loose entirely. 

And even then, Jon comes a second time across his own stomach and Elias follows, buried to the hilt inside him. 

He eases Jon up with him, keeps him on his cock as he settles back into a chair. His living hive barely has it together enough to wrap his limbs around him, but Jon drapes himself against his chest when they’re seated, buries his face against his neck. Elias soothes himself by counting up and down Jon’s vertebrae, slipping a finger through his skin and muscle to pet along their protrusions, and feel Jon shudder and clench around him. 

Eventually, they peel themselves apart. Mostly literally. Jon leans back enough to regard him carefully, and Elias does his level best to ignore the way come drips out of him onto his thighs, making him want to fuck back into the hive all over again.

“That was…” Jon starts, but he doesn’t seem to know where he’s going with this statement and Elias is under no obligation to help. “Something.” 

“Quite,” Elias agrees. He strokes along the curve of Jon’s back appreciatively. 

Jon clears his throat. “Yes. Well. I should- leave. I should go.” 

“Of course.” Neither of them seem inclined towards further movement. Elias can feel a few bees burrowing into his soft tissues, but it’s simple enough to bind his flesh back together and force them out. 

“Right. I’ll just- Right.” Jon extricates himself carefully from Elias' lap and then pauses, wobbling on his feet, clutching at the armrests. “Elias-”

“I suppose you’d like me to correct that for you?” Elias asks, leaning forward. Jon’s misaligned hips are at a level he can grab them easily, can slip his once again singular tongue over their curve.

“Yes. If it isn’t going to be too much trouble,” Jon snaps acidly. Like he’s unaware that Elias could simply leave him hobbled. 

Elias considers pulling something out of him. Just a small thing, a carpal perhaps. But he melds his hands into Jon’s hips again and rights them, appreciative of the way his muscles spasm around the intrusion, readjust to their alignment. The grooves his fingers dug in are mostly evened out again, save for two divots along their front where his thumbs would rest.

He even makes sure to pop Jon’s femur back into its socket and the groan of pain Jon gives at the sensation is repayment enough for services rendered. That, and the twitch Jon’s otherwise soft cock gives. Elias raises an eyebrow and declines to comment. Jon’s cheeks are burning red. 

“Thank you,” Jon says stiffly. 

“You’re quite welcome.” There’s another long pause where Jon seems at a loss for action. “Would you like to borrow some clothes for your trip home? I’m afraid the set you came in wearing have been, hm, compromised.” 

“Yes, I wonder how that could have happened,” Jon says, rolling his eyes. “That would be- fine. Thank you.” 

“The closet’s just this way,” Elias says, rising to his feet and coaxing Jon forward with a hand at the small of his back. 

If Jon ends up bent over a dressing table rather than actually becoming clothed, well, who can really be blamed for that.


End file.
